Train to Nowhere was an interesting and thought-provoking read. It has several strong components going for it, the most colorful of which is the setting (and how the setting is portrayed). The characters and plot are compelling, and the story is told in a fashion that is effective and crisp.
Diving right into the world building—one initial observation regarding the setting is the explicit yet smoothly integrated particulars embedded in the character dialogue. This vocabulary (perhaps slang), which appears relative to the setting/scene/character, is a quick and colorful introductory mechanism into the world. In parallel, other aspects of the setting, such as behaviors, practices, and scenery, are revealed at a more measured pace—like honey from a spoon. This pace allows the reader to become engrossed in such a way that the intricacies of this unfamiliar place became familiar and almost comfortable (like a hot bath done right, i.e. not entered abruptly).
The setting deserves an additional note due to its ingenious structure. There are three classes: Orphans, Landed, and Nomad; the classes are (purposefully) both culturally and geographically separate entities (note: the Orphans and Nomads are primarily mobile), and one wonders throughout the book whether or not these classes are ‘equal’ to each other, which seems to be a thematic question posed to the reader. For example, the Orphans ride on a train for life (for all practical purposes) but have the best of technology at their fingertips, whereas the nomads wander under the broad skies, but live a harsher, more basic life than the Orphans—so which is preferred?
I may have missed it, but the fundamental reason for the existence of the three classes was never quite clear to me. (Though it is stated that the existence of the Orphans is based on the fact that only one child is permitted per couple, and therefore additional children must be moved to the Orphan trains—so it was not an entire mystery). The reader can make some logical assumptions in any case. Foremost it appears that the region (or world) is in post-apocalyptic recovery, which has potentially forced the formation of the three cultures. But what of their behaviors? The differing behavioral expectations of the classes, while mysterious to me, was fertile ground for conflict, and compelling for that reason. Examples include anything from jealousy of another culture’s privileges (this is explored through Garland, the Orphan who wants to leave the train for Outside) to the challenges of cultural cross-over (there are times when the classes actually do cross paths, which creates an interesting dynamic between them).
As previously noted, Train to Nowhere’s world has depth and complexity, but of course the story is not about the world itself—that simply acts as a successful framework for the characters and plot. The characters are interesting, and though it seems that they can be (at times) somewhat one-dimensional (other than the protagonist, Garland, who’s complexity exists in his struggle to determine what he truly wants out of life), this does not come across as an oversight but rather a deliberate choice by the author—meaning that most of the characters have straight-forward interests and desires (which very well may be a reflection of the cultures they have been brought up in). Case in point, the two primary characters are Garland (an Orphan), and Hedge (a Landed—which is a stationary, Amish-like class sprinkled with progressive culture and technology). Both are musicians, and both live in separate class structures, yet share similar desires (expressed in different ways)—put simply, to improve their circumstances. This motivation is pretty clear-cut and singular for Hedge. For Garland (the protagonist), positive change is initially represented by a desire to ‘escape’ from his life as an Orphan on the Orphan Train, and to explore and live among the ‘freedom’ of the sunlit world—but not only does it take time for to truly become a passion (and not just a fancy), it grows in complexity as he experiences the world. For Hedge, the Landed, change is represented by his desire to climb the ‘corporate’ ladder of his Guild, and become one of (or perhaps ‘the’) most famous entertainer/musician among Landed society. Their twin paths continue in parallel, until fatefully their tracks ultimately collide, sending each into new and unexpected territory. Both are ripped from their familiar comforts and confronted with new and trying circumstances, from which challenges and opportunity arise. In this way, the novel explores the fertile ground of cultural cross-over, a compelling struggle to shadow as an observer.
In general, there are times when I would have preferred some quicker pacing, and (in an almost counter request) an opportunity to smell, taste and truly feel what the characters were smelling, tasting and feeling—the descriptions as they stand were effective (and as I said, the world itself was genius), but at times the expressions could have been more evocative (for me). That said, following these characters (and the ensemble cast they intersect with throughout the book) brings the reader along a thought-provoking journey—not only because of the character arcs and inevitable interwoven climax between the main players, but also because of the world that is revealed to the reader through their eyes, and its implications not only to them, but translated back to us, the readers, as any meaningful work will do.